Sein Bruder
by LoveToTheCucumber
Summary: It doesn't matter what kind of challenge life throws at the unerring university student. He will overcome and never bat an eyelid. At least that's what he thinks until a shot at happiness presents itself. What seems like a positive life-changing event is quickly turned into a nightmare... And he will have no one else to blame but his dear brother.


_A/N: There's a list of appearing and mentioned characters at the bottom of this chapter that shows which name belongs to which country if you are in any kind of doubt :)_

**Seinen Bruder**

_(His Brother)_

**Chapter 1**

_(First-Hand Impression)_

It was around noon when the platinum blond reached the school buildings. He preferred the half-hour walked over the 12-minute bus drive, and that was not just because of the money he saved by doing so.

As he strolled down the busy halls with his shoulder bag swinging along his walk, he harked back to the more or less unexacting times when he was still just in the gymnasium. He had never been very fond of fixed schedules so the university's flextime appealed to him. Especially after his parents' passing. It had put him in an inconvenient position, but he did not consider his underage brother's nor his own subsistence to be lamentable. Just unfortunate.

A familiar student greeted Gilbert with a smile and an inside hand gesture as they passed each other in the hallway. It was only his second year, but he already felt very conversant with both the different school buildings and the students. Of course, he did not even come close to knowing everyone, but the ones following the same track as him were recognizable at that point in time.

Not once did he regret attending an international school. The different races made it so much easier to distinguish that many people from one another. It might sound slightly racist, but he had never been good with faces. Other than that, he was quite intrigued by the different cultures of the world so an international university was a great opportunity to get to know some of them.

People began to crowd in front of the classrooms yet Gilbert noticed a few that kept walking till they reached the exit of the school building. They were most likely done for the day. He opted for days where you got off early, but he did not mind having a nice lie-in once in a while either.

"Hola, hermano!" the always and ever high spirited Spaniard exclaimed after Gilbert entered the classroom.

"What's up?" he accosted his friends as he walked up the auditorium-like rise to join them.

"Did you hear yet? Mr. Edelstein is being replaced by Vargas."

He glanced at the brunette and shook his head, raising a brow. "How come?"

"He's sick or something." The Frenchman, Francis Bonnefoy, took the liberty of finishing Antonio's tale.

"Then I guess we can expect an even higher truancy rate in Latin from now on." Gilbert sat down beside Antonio, placing his bag in front of him so he could use it as a pillow.

The unshaven Francis leaned over the table to look past Antonio. "Yeah, I would rather have Killjoy Edelstein than Hot-head Vargas. Though, I do look forward to all the lovely scoldings you're gonna get," he said, gazing up at Antonio who did not seem like he was looking an awful lot forward to having the Italian as their semi-permanent teacher.

Gilbert only exhaled through his nose, amused, as he looked away. It seemed like the students who had chosen to make an appearance had settled down and was ready for class to begin. Most of them were the usual bunch. Or rather the swots, if preferred.

He did not consider himself a careerist. School was just a nice a break from reality and sooner or later, he would benefit from all his hard work. Sometimes he wished his little brother and him shared the same kind of logic, but he understood that everyone had their own way of dealing with loss. Apparently, Ludwig would rather kick a ball around than study. Well, when he came to think about it that actually was not very uncommon for someone at his age. He too had been a soccer freak once.

Finally, the door flung open and in came Lovino Vargas. He was in a flattering mood as expected. But what Gilbert did not expect was for a second person to follow him. A tall, flaxen-haired guy. Vargas rushed him to go find a seat, not seeming to notice the confusion the newcomer clearly emitted. He even had a map over the school in one hand just as Gilbert had had when he first came to the university.

The unacquainted guy smiled at Vargas, thanking him, before he made his way through the jungle of tables. He could have sat in the front. He could have sat in the middle. He could have gone in another direction, but after quickly scanning the room, he came and sat next to the proud German, Gilbert Beilschmidt.

"I hope this seat isn't taken," the guy said in an unfounded tone of joy, not directing his words to anyone in particular.

Gilbert raised one side of his upper lip in a frown. It was not like the guy had given them an opportunity to spare the seat for anyone so why even bother "asking?" He could at least have had the decency to look at the person he was speaking to.

"I'm happy I brought my laptop today," Francis stated, ostensibly without taking further note of the tactless blond who now sat just three seats away from him.

"Me too." Antonio turned on his laptop and it started making a racket, causing him to look down in shame. Countless people had told him to throw the old one out and get a new one instead, but they never considered just why he stuck with his outdated machinery. There was no doubt that if he had the money, he would buy a new computer in a heartbeat. Some people were just inconsiderate. At least that was what Gilbert thought.

Vargas shot Antonio a deadly glare before making a move to begin the lesson. It was then Gilbert dove into his bag to dig out his own laptop, only to realize he had forgotten it at home. He cursed, making the people at his table turn and look at him.

"Good luck keeping up," the Frenchman sniggered, knowing that it was damn near impossible to take notes in Latin class without a computer, but Gilbert's bad memory had not given him any other choice. He had to go old school with pen and paper.

Quickly and with ease, he found his scratch pad, but ferreting out a pen or pencil was a different matter and eventually he had to give up the search. His two friends were already busy typing while the halcyon blond on the other side of him was scribbling down things on his own note pad.

"Hey," Gilbert whispered across the table in Francis and Antonio's direction. "Do you have a pencil?" They barely shook their heads in response before immediately turning back their attention to the blackboard and their computer screens.

Gilbert looked down at the table for a moment and pondered whether or not he should ask that new guy for help. His eyes traveled up the stranger. He seemed friendly enough. Maybe he was just a bit of a hustler.

"Uhm... sorry, but... can I borrow a pencil?"

Their eyes scarcely met before the blond suddenly looked down into his pencil case and fished out a pencil and an eraser, placing it between the two of them.

"Sure," he said with a smile, then went back to what he was originally doing.

Gilbert could not help but watch him for a moment. There was something unusual about him. Since when did you go and sit with a group of students that obviously knew each other well when there were several empty seats available around the classroom? Perhaps he just was not the kind of guy to follow unwritten social rules. He was not sure how he felt towards such people. They tended to make him feel a tad uncomfortable since it was hard to anticipate their next moves.

While scratching down a few notes, he noticed what a terrible handwriting he had, reminding himself just why he always brought along his laptop.

"Damn it," he whispered under his breath and reached out for the eraser, but made an instant withdrawal when his fingers touched something less rubbery than expected. Whatever it was, it was surprisingly soft.

He slowly looked up just to see the educatee with whom he shared a desk sitting with a wide smile spread across his face, his hand lying on top of the eraser.

"You need this?" he asked, handing Gilbert the rubber.

"Yeah... thanks." He used it quickly so he could give it back to the awaiting stranger.

After that incident, Gilbert found it difficult to concentrate on Vargas' blabbering. He guessed whatever it was he was talking about it had to do with the many different cases, but he already had a million notes on that subject so it did not really matter if he took any more or not. Besides, his hand was hurting. It sure was not easy going from keyboard to pencil.

He could not help himself from stealing glances of the guy next to him once in a while throughout the rest of the lesson. He seemed very focused and took lots of notes. He wrote at a rapid pace, yet his writing still did not turn out nearly as bad as Gilbert's. Every now and then, he looked up at the blackboard, revealing dark blue eyes. He had modest-sized sideburns and one of those modern haircuts that was short in the back and long in the front. He even took time to style it with gel, hairspray or something along those lines so his bangs did not cover his face too much. Obviously, he was a guy that cared about his looks. Could it be that he was superficial?

The platinum blond tried to place the other's nationality judging by his looks and accent - which was somewhat zany, though he was still quite easy to understand, unlike Francis, just to give an example. This stranger looked sort of like a Dutchman, but his accent did not have the same rough edge as they had. His best guess would probably be that he was from one of the Scandinavian countries. Norway, quite possibly.

The last 20 minutes of the lesson seemed to last forever and the rest of the day was not any better. When Gilbert finally got off, he went straight home. His younger brother, Ludwig, was found in a sack chair in front of the TV with a controller in his hand. He had played FIFA a lot lately.

"Hallo, Kleiner. I see you're ready for football practice," Gilbert said, referring to the sportswear Ludwig was wearing already.

"Yeah," he answered flatly, not looking away from the TV screen.

"Wanna grab a bite to eat before you're off?"

"Ne? Oh, no thanks." It was easy to tell that he was not paying much attention to his older brother.

"Can I join?"

Ludwig did not answer.

"Hey." Gilbert snatched the wire hanging from the controller and raised it till the plastic device dangled in front of the younger person's face. It did not do for long, though.

"Stop that, Dummkopf!" he nagged and shoved his still taller brother away to make sure he would not do it again. Gilbert just chuckled and sat down on the couch, grabbing the second controller.

The other glanced at him, but did not make as if to start the game over. Instead, he finished his current game before stating, "I'm Bayern."

"Of course you are. It doesn't make a difference. I'm gonna kick your ass with Real anyway."

"In your dreams. The Spanish couldn't play soccer even if their lives depended on it."

"Say that again after I beat you." Gilbert swung his legs up onto the table and got ready to play. He was not much into video games, but he enjoyed a game or two against his brother every now and then. It was relaxing even if he never did anything but lose. He was much better with an actual football than those virtual ones.

10 minutes into the game, Gilbert mumbled to himself, "Hmm... maybe I should consider switching to a Dutch team henceforth."

"Traitor. Maybe you should quit playing all together. You suck."

"At least I'm a better real life player than you."

"Pfft, you wouldn't even be able to run from one end to another before dropping dead." Ludwig looked far from impressed.

"That's a bet. Name the time and place and I'll most definitely walk away with your next month's allowance."

"And when I win, you'll buy me a new laptop."

"Now, that's an unfair bet."

"Deals off then."

Gilbert could have sworn he saw a faint smile playing on his brother's lips. A rare sight so he made sure to relish it, not caring that his lack of attention cost him a goal.

A short while after, Ludwig put down his controller and got up on his feet. "I'm off," he said and picked up the black and white sports bag next to him.

"But we didn't finish the game yet?"

"Zwingli's gonna throw a fit if I'm late. Besides, you might as well finish the match without me. Maybe you'll be able to even the score."

"Oh, someone's too big for his boots."

"Like you're one to talk. See ya'." And then he was out the door.

Gilbert sat still for a moment, looking at the door, then back at the screen. He played for a bit, but quit before the match ended. There was not any point in playing alone and Ludwig was right, he would not be able to win within the remaining time anyway.

He turned off the entire arrangement and headed for the shower. First Friday of the month meant party at his university. The last thing he wanted was to show up all sweaty and smelly.

Standing under the lukewarm spray used to be his favorite spot. Back when his parents were still alive, it was about the only place he could find peace. He sort of liked standing there now. Just standing, not doing anything. But nowadays all it reminded him of was how suddenly he had been forced to grow up. He could not stand there for an hour as he used to do. He had to think of the water and heating bill. Responsibilities.

He grabbed a towel and dried himself off sloppily before wrapping the moist fabric around his waist.

In the kitchen, he grabbed a cold beer from the refrigerator. A sad pre-party, he thought and shook his head with delectation.

Taking a sip of his beer, he wondered if his brother was happy. The little fella had changed a lot over the last year, but Gilbert was not sure if it was because of _that_ or if he had just finally hit puberty. Probably a tiny bit of both.

Ludwig and his Turkish soccer- and schoolmate, Sadık Adnan, were home around seven. They ordered take out since Gilbert was feeling lazy that day and Ludwig had complained when he had told them just to eat the leftovers from yesterday. They did not really have the money for such luxuries, but he did not want to miss out on life's small conveniences because of a small nugacity like that. While in all actuality, it was mostly for Ludwig's sake.

"So, what're you boys up to tonight?" the older one of them asked between a mouthful of fries.

"Not much. Play FIFA or something, I guess."

Sadık nodded agreeably while slurping down his coke.

"Well, have fun with that. Just don't go out and get drunk."

"Sure thing. I'll make sure to keep Ludwiggy on a tight leash."

Gilbert laughed at Sadık's remark, making the Turkish smile proudly. Ludwig did not add anything and settled with rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"By the way, I bought you some snacks. They're in the cupboard."

"'Kay," the two boys answered in unison.

The head of the house put on his jacket, found his keys, etc., before greeting the youngsters goodbye. "I won't be home late," he shouted, but they were discussing something soccer related and therefore had stopped paying attention to him a long time ago.

Gilbert was not good at not worrying, but boys at the age of 16 should be old enough to take care of themselves, he figured and left without trying to meddle any further.

At the party, he, Antonio and Francis sat down at an empty table after supplying themselves with drinks. They thought an acceptable amount of people had shown up, but it could not exactly be compared to either of the bigger parties they had attended during their first year at the university. The music was too loud as usual, though. Gilbert considered himself highly tolerant when it came to deafening volumes, but blaring house and dance music just was not his cup of tea. Probably because he did not dance. Francis and Antonio loved it, but then again, they were both born with rhythm. He did not even want to imagine how hard they would laugh if he dropped his monkey-like moves in front of everyone.

He looked incuriously at his friends. Francis was gawking at every pretty woman in the room yet again. Antonio was not doing much. Ergo, the same old story.

"Hey, Gilbert, we gotta help Francis find una chica guapa. He's in heat," Antonio laughed, receiving a funny look from the Frenchman.

"Why don't you just go talk to one of them?" Gilbert took a sip of his beer while glancing at Francis.

"You know they can't handle his "French charm"."

"That's right." Francis flipped his flowing locks and smirked, pretending he did not catch that the Spaniard was actually trying to insult him.

Gilbert clucked and directed his attention elsewhere as the duo beside him kept going at it.

His eyes fell on a blond at the bar. He lowered his head slightly as he watched the unaccustomed person. A sudden nudge to the shoulder disturbed him and he looked back up at Antonio.

"Isn't that the guy from Latin class?" he asked.

Gilbert shrugged, feeling stupid for being caught staring. "Could be."

Out of nowhere, Francis suddenly put his arm up in the air and shouted, "Holà, beau gars!" and everyone close by turned to the three young men at the table, including the person Gilbert had been staring at.

He had to take a deep breath in order to calm himself down so he would not take a swing at the spontaneous, curly poodle for being so heedless.

The guy at the bar seemed perplexed once Francis started beckoning him to come up to them, but nodded nonetheless, payed for his beer and came over.

"What's up?" he asked with an insecure smile and looked down at the chair in front of him, but he did not take a seat until Francis encouraged him to do so. Perhaps he was not that tactless after all.

"You're new here, right?" Antonio always sounded so accommodating, regardless if he was talking to someone new, a close friend or even an enemy. Sometimes Gilbert wondered if he was incapable of getting seriously angry, which was odd since he thought the Spanish were supposed to be hot-tempered people.

"Yep, I'm studying abroad for some time. I'm Mathias." He extended his hand to Antonio who presented himself. Then it was Francis's turn and finally the hand went Gilbert's way. He had been taken by surprise by the new one's formality.

Antonio leaned back in his seat with his hands placed loosely in between his thighs. "So, where're you from? No, wait. Let me guess... hmm... the Netherlands?"

But before Mathias could give an answer, Francis interrupted. "No, I can tell he isn't Dutch. You look Polish to me."

"Or maybe Russian!"

"What? There's a guy from Russia here and he sounds nothing like him."

"Latvian then?"

Clearly Antonio and Francis had no idea of what they were talking about. Then again, Gilbert did have the advantage when it came to recognizing people from the Northern Kingdoms. At least he should have after the several summer vacations he had spent there. They probably did not even know that those countries existed. At least the German knew for sure that this guy was not Polish nor Russian or anything similar to that.

He took a quick look at the guy on the opposite side of the table. He appeared a tad uncomfortable. Not that Gilbert did not understand why since two strangers were talking about him in third person like he was not even there. It was bound to put one in an awkward position.

"You're Scandinavian, aren't you?" Gilbert said at long last, making his two friends stop fighting.

"Yeah... Danish, to be precise."

Close enough, he thought and grinned triumphantly to the others who seemed like a lightning of realization had just struck them.

"Do you like it here?" Gilbert asked before his friends could start bugging the poor guy again.

"I love it so far. The German and Danish cultures are very similar so I guess it's not that hard for me to adjust. I kinda feel at home already."

"True. I've been on vacation in Denmark a few times before. I like your beaches."

"Oh, so you're German," he joked and grimaced at Gilbert.

"What makes you say that?"

"'Cause most of our tourists are German and they mainly visit us because of our beaches. But, actually, your accent gave you away a long time ago."

"I see." Gilbert smiled quietly and looked down at his hands that were wrapped around his tumbler. He thought it was funny how people never had any trouble with guessing his nationality. Was his accent really that bad?

They fell silent and distracted themselves by watching some of the people that had moved to the dance floor. Though, eventually, Gilbert's eyes drifted back to Mathias.

The Dane had one supportive hand on his cheek and one that lay flat on the table. His nails and hands were clean and all in all well-cared-for. In a way, they looked sort of feminine even if they were still broad and angular. He had the hands of a student, which in Gilbert's world meant it looked like they had not touched anything dirtier than dusty books. It was weird because Mathias did not seem like your common nerd. He did not have an astigmatism - unless he wore contact lenses. He did not have a bowl cut or was as thin as a rake. As a matter of fact, he looked rather muscular and stylish. Or perhaps stylish was too strong of a word, but at least he did not look like someone who would show up in socks and sandals.

"Look, there's Mrs. Elizabeta," Francis said in a bothersome tone while Antonio went along, poking Gilbert playfully.

"What?" the German asked. They only raised their eyebrows suggestively. "Shut up." He looked the other way, his cheeks slowly flushing a faint pink.

Mathias was clueless to what they were hinting at, but Francis was kind enough to make sure and fill him in on everything. "Gilbert has the hots for Mrs. Elizabeta, but last year, he loudly stated that he planned on starting a kinky affair with her and she heard him and has picked on him ever since. He's such a cocky bastard." The Frenchman winked at his peeved friend.

Mathias' mouth opened slightly in surprise, but formed into a humored smirk soon enough.

"No wonder she doesn't like you," Antonio added, looking at Gilbert. "Remember that time she overheard you calling Mr. Edelstein a soporific, affected snob?"

"Oof, yeah, she wasn't very thrilled about that either," Francis consented.

"How come she got mad over that?" Mathias asked almost innocently.

"It's her husband," Gilbert's trustworthy friends said in chorus.

"It's not like she hasn't heard others call him that before. I was just stating the obvious." The heavy accented platinum blond still refused to look at any of them.

"She hates your guts." Francis pointed at Gilbert and smiled amusedly.

"She might, but not nearly as much as Vargas hates Antonio. That's pure despise." Gilbert wanted to try and direct the conversation away from himself. He did not like to be the center of that kind of attention. When Mathias gave him a curious look, he continued. "Vargas hates crawlers and the first time he and dumbo here met, Antonio sucked up to him so badly that he has never forgotten about it."

"I did not!" Antonio protested. "I'm politely inclined. That's just how I was raised."

"You did suck up to him a little."

"Yeah, you did." Francis nodded. Whenever they ganged up on Antonio like that, he got all mazed and did not know what to do and so he ended up saying nothing, which only made him appear even more guilty.

A bell rang and most people turned their attention towards the bar.

"Are we gonna join in tonight?" Francis looked at everyone at the table excitedly.

"What's going on?" Mathias asked.

"The bell means a contest is about to start. Tonight we're having a beer drinking contest so you're definitely in, right?" Francis' eyes traveled from Mathias to Gilbert and he sent him a challenging look, receiving one right back.

"Obviously."

"What about you?" Mathias turned to Antonio who shook his head.

"No thanks, amigo. My stomach goes crazy if I drink too much malt. But you should go. Don't you Danes drink beer like crazy just as the Germans?"

"More or less. I guess I wouldn't mind showing a frog and a kraut how real men drink." The confident Dane smirked at Gilbert who raised a brow, completely unaffected.

After that, pretty much the rest of the night was nothing but a big blur to Gilbert. He only vaguely remembered a few later episodes. He recalled Francis being the first of the three to throw in the towel. Regretfully, he also remembered that the Dane ended up winning the entire contest that night. One the face of it, he was not just all talk after all.

Gilbert's right arm still hurt the following morning. They had had an arm wrestling tournament after the contest. He was afraid that he had sprained a muscle, but he would most definitely abstain from complaining to avoid any sort of mockery.

The tournament had just been between the four of them and he had thought he had a good shot at winning, but in the end, he had to admit defeat to Antonio. The only one he had won against was Francis, though he was sure he could have beat Mathias if he had not cheated. Right in the middle of their match, the Dane had suddenly looked to the side in surprise, making Gilbert do the same, and while he was not focusing, Mathias managed to slam his hand down the table. He could not believe he had fallen for such a cheap trick.

Every time he recalled that night, he could not help but think about that exact match. Somehow, it had felt very intense. They had had their foreheads pressed against each other while staring into each other's eyes, each their simpers displaying their unlimited self-reliance. The blond's confidence was overwhelming.

And he really did have extremely soft hands?

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**Character list: (In order of appearance)**

**Gilbert Beilschmidt - Prussia**

**Antonio ****Fernández Carriedo** **- Spain**

**Francis Bonnefoy - France**

**Lovino Vargas - Romano**

**Mathias Køhler - Denmark**

**Ludwig Beilschmidt - Germany**

**Sadık Adnan - Turkey**

**(Mentioned:)**

**Roderich Edelstein - Austria**

**Basch Zwingli - Switzerland**

**Elizabeta ****Héderváry** ** - Hungary**

******oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

***Side note* The Germans and Dutchmen kinda have this feud when it comes to soccer, hence - the small conversation between Gilbert and Ludwig during their FIFA match – in case you didn't know already.**

******oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**So, I realize some of my followers might be disappointed when they see that I have started a new story when I really should be finishing Anything Else?... I promise I have tried and tried, but I just can't get the next chapter written. Still not giving up though if you thought that was the case ;) I just needed to do something else for a change now that I finally feel like writing fics just the slightest bit again. And this chapter has actually been lying around since February so it was about time I posted it. I'm almost done with chapter two, but I've had troubles with getting on to the third chapter and lately I realized it's because I've been writing for no one since I haven't published the story anywhere. No critique, no praise and blame, no nothing. Nothing to inspire me to keep on going. So here it is :)  
**

**But I warn you – Uni just started so I won't even promise you that I'll update frequently. So I'll make a promise I can keep; I'll update when I update. Maybe soon, maybe not :)**

**Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of this story. Oh, and don't mind the crappy chapter title. I'm just very bad at giving chapters titles xD**

**P.S. I only use contractions in direct speech (as you may have noticed) and I'm sorry if it annoys you, but I was taught this was the right way to do it and now I prefer it this way. **


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